


Left Brain, Right Brain

by orphan_account



Category: Bo Burnham - Fandom, CrankGameplays - Fandom, Left Brain Right Brain - Bo Burnham (Song), jacksepticeye, markiplier - Fandom
Genre: Gen, M/M, Maybe - Freeform, Multichapter, Septiplier - Freeform, based on bo burnham's left right brain bit, if it doesnt turn out to be septiplier, im sorry, left brain - Freeform, right brain - Freeform, scientific experimentation, well see what happens, what
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-21
Updated: 2017-04-25
Packaged: 2018-10-08 16:41:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10391223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Ethan has something wrong with his brain. His logic and creativity are at war. The solution? Separate them. Ethan's brain is split into two parts: Jack, the right brain: emotional, sensory, subjective; and Mark: logical, pattern finding, objective.To get along is to save Ethan's life. To fail is to kill him. Will they succeed?





	1. Isolation

**Author's Note:**

> Everyone should watch "what"on netflix. Its better than this.

A mechanical whirring stirred Ethan awake. The first thing he was met with was a white light, so infuriatingly white that he had to reach up and cover his eyes for a few moments, and even then he could only open them in increments. Once he was adjusted to the blinding light that didn't seem to come from anywhere physical, he looked around. The room was blank and white, empty of doors, windows, anything that a normal room would contain. Ethan then realized that he was sitting in a chair. In a chair? He fell asleep in a chair? His back should hurt more then. But it didn't.

Where am I? he asked himself. But somewhere inside, he already knew. Familiarity was the only thing that dropped a seed of dread in his stomach, because he knew what was coming. Electronic whizzes and whirrs accumulated the silent space around him, and he just stared at the ground, waiting for it.

"Patient 4207," prompted a female sounding, almost British, robotic voice. 4207. Ethan never would've thought twice about the number in real life. But here in...wherever he was, the number terrified him. It either meant that he was the 4207th person to try this, whatever this was, or the other 4206 people didn't make it.

Did you catch that? Ethan did. He said 'real life'. Was he not in real life? Rather, some figment of his own fevered imagination? Or someone else's?

"Patient 4027." This time the voice was more demanding than greeting.

"Hi," Ethan said, barely audible even to himself.

"How are you feeling?"

Ethan took in a deep breath, as if he were trying to convince himself that he was smelling flowers, and not bleach. "Not great."

There was a hanging pause. Then the robotic voice said, "Has the treatment been working?"

Ethan couldn't help but snicker. He stared at the connect-the-dot puzzle of small holes in his wrist from years of experimental needles, which he swore he never had before but somehow seemed familiar with as if they'd been with him his whole life. He ran the pad of his finger over them. Would they ever heal? He sighed. "No, it hasn't been."

"What are your remaining symptoms?"

Ethan let his head fall into his hands, and he opened his mouth and spilled everything out without even meaning to. "I just-- I internalize my feelings. I have trouble artic- like other people, and relating to them is hard. I don't speak my mind, but my mind is screaming at me. And it's screaming at me that I need to say something but then it screams at me to not say anything at all, and it makes people mad at me because I never say anything right or I never say anything nice and...and..." His breath shuddered on the way out. "I feel like I'm fighting myself."

"So, basically you're still a little bitch."

Well. That caught Ethan off guard.

For some reason, he felt defensive against the voice. Who did this voice think they were? Talking to Ethan like that? Wasn't this 'treatment' of theirs supposed to be helping him? But then it's gonna sit here and mock Ethan for having legitimate emotional and mental issues? Not cool, robot. Not cool. He dared to speak up. "Real mature of you, disembodied voice. Thanks so much."

The voice seemed to laugh. "I was only joking."

"Nice joke." He waited for the voice to speak. After several moments, nothing answered him, and he grew impatient. What the hell was he here for, fun? He was here to be fixed, not to have witty back and forth banter with something that wasn't even human. "Just, get to the- what's wrong with me? What is wrong with me just tell me, please." He hoped he didn't come off too desperate. 

Too desperate? To the automated, recorded, artificially intelligent voice. Come on Ethan. What are you doing man?

Without a pause this time, the voice started speaking. "Your emotions and your logic are at war."

Ethan furrowed his brows. "Okay," he said, confused.

Your creativity and your analysis are at war. And most simply, your left and right brain are at war."

Wait. What? "My left and my right--?"

What the hell did that even mean? He knew that...whatever was wrong with him had something to do with his brain, but he never even considered that...that two different pieces of his brain were fighting each other. Can that even happen? Is it some kind of disease? Maybe some malformed branch of severe anxiety? If it was, he had never heard of it before. How can two parts of a whole thing be fighting each other? Can brain halves even fight?

"What you are doing right now," interrupted the voice, "is precisely how you are being broken down. Your logic and your emotion are battling each other for dominance, but they are wearing you down in the process."

"How do you know what I'm thinking?" Ethan asked, feeling less secure by the second.

"I'm a robot."

"....And?"

"That's it."

That didn't make any fucking sense, but he didnt really have the energy to argue with an omnipotent British lady's robotic voice. 

Ethan ran a hand through his hair, which wasn't even blue anymore. It was just the bleach color. He could've sworn when he went to sleep that night (in his damn bed) that it was a vibrant blue. Even his own color was being taken from him. "So how do I fix this, how does this end?"

"To fix the problem, you must separate them from each other."

An image of Ethan lying on a table flashed into his mind. He was strapped to it, and a robotic hand, scalpel clasped in its fingers, was descending on his head. It tore his skull open and removed one half of his brain to put in a pan, and the other they removed and put in another. All the while, his horrified screams fell on deaf ears.

It suddenly felt much colder than it was seconds before. "Separate...?"

"Splitting your neurological functions in five--"  
Ethan sprang from his seat. What was happening? What was happening?!

"What what, no! You can't--"

"Four, three--"

"Can't we like book an appointment you can't just start counting down--"

"Two, one...this may hurt a bit--"

Ethan's voice was shrill. "I don't even know what THIS is! What are you--"

"Zero."

"No! Just--"

The lights all around him flickered out. He was in complete darkness.

Out of nowhere, Ethan was seized with an immense, head-splitting pain that reduced him to his knees. He kneeled on the ground and curled into himself, screaming like an animal. He couldn't hear anything, but he knew he was yelling, calling out for someone to come and save him. It felt as if someone had shoved a knife right down the middle of his skull. Abstract shapes and colors swirled in front of him and somewhere amid the pain he figured that he was dying; that he'd dug himself too far down the rabbit hole and now he was going to die. 

It hurt. Oh god, it hurt. Ethan had never experienced a pain this intense. It wasn't a burning or a stinging or anything like he'd ever known pain to feel like before. His eyes were shut tight enough to make himself blind, and he was clutching his head so tightly that he might break his fingers. He was tearing his hear out. Make it stop. Where was he going? It sure as hell wasn't home. He was fading. What was causing it? Make it stop!

He was splitting in two. He was splitting in two.

The pain stopped. Ethan stopped. Ethan was gone.

"Isolation complete."


	2. Jacking Off and Checking Marks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Introducing: Left Brain and Right Brain. They go through some tests inside out style and come up with names for themselves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey its been way too long but I finally got this chapter out. More to come!

As if birthing from smoke, a figure suddenly appeared. He was in simple garb, a white shirt and black pants. His black hair was swept neatly to the side, and the only anomaly about him was his pair of glasses, which had a nasty habit of slipping down his nose, in which he had to readjust them every few minutes. He stood with his hands loosely clasped behind his back and stared at the screen, which was blank. What was taking her so long? How long did simulations take to set up?

He coughed into his fist.

"Oh, yes," piped up the robotic voice from before, "my apologies."

"What were you doing?" 

"To be truthful, I was on sleep mode. I forgot about the simulation."

"Just do your job," he hissed. 

The robotic voice seemed to clear its throat, and he wondered vaguely if technology can have enough sentience to develop throats to clear. Then he told himself to not be so dense. Tech is not human and can't have human qualities. Of course. Text appeared on the screen.

_"This is Ethan's left brain: Objective, logical, cold, analytical; aware of patterns, aware of trends. He's efficient."_

Left Brian smiled proudly at the description.

_"And a prick."_

"Hey!"

The voice snickered. "I'm giving a description, I might as well be honest."

Left Brain huffed through his nose, and looked down at the control panel in front of him. It spread wide, decorated with buttons and levers and dials with various labels. Each button and dial had a meter next to it, which looked to, when turned on, measure the amount of what each button did. He leaned down and peered at some of the descriptions, mumbling them out loud.

"Analysis...Calculating ability...pattern finding...rationality...sense of responsibility..." Left Brain tilted his head at the buttons, and almost wanted to laugh. Of the the things that could've been used to represent everything, they decided on a control panel, equal to that of a Toys R Us kitchen set? He could guess they were on a budget, but seriously? 

He dismissed it, and pushed his glasses up his nose. The screen flashed, and he looked up. Text appeared on the screen. "Solve the following equations". Left Brain scoffed. Piece of cake.

"7+10=X"

Left Brain laughed to himself. "Really?" he asked the air as he pressed the button labeled 'Calculation ability'. The meter next to it filled a millimeter.

"7x + 3 = 38"

He pressed the button again. The meter filled again.

Equations of this nature kept passing on the screen, and each time, Left Brain would quickly find the answer, and press the button, until the meter filled completely, and he couldn't answer anymore. Though he wished he could've, he was satisfied with the amount of equations he answered. Left Brain stood straight, smirking, waiting for the next test. The robotic voice spoke again.

"Test One, Part One complete. Start Part Two."

Left Brain watched the screen with intent. The color of the screen flashed to red. Text appeared: "You trip someone on accident."

Left Brain's brows furrowed, and he looked down at the control panel. No button he had correlated to the scenario shown on-screen. He tried pressing 'rationality.' Nothing. He tried 'pattern finding', 'puzzle solving,' and even 'witty remarks'. Nothing helped.

He couldn't find the button until he looked over and saw that the panel was much wider than he thought, and it seemed to be color coded? One half was blue, his end, and the other was red. He stepped over and looked at the other selection of buttons. They seemed absurd: 'opinions', 'creativity', 'emotions'? When in the world did Ethan use these things? Left brain surely never used them.

He raised a hand and prepared to press a random button, hoping his guessing skills were on point. Before he did though, another hand reached forward and pressed the button labeled 'Guilt.' The meter next to it filled completely, and Left Brain looked at the other person who dared to mess with this panel.

The other person waved at him, and Left Brain couldn't help his eyes widening at this kid's appearance. That's all he could be described as--a kid: wearing a lively red hoodie paired with a head full of neon green hair. He looked more like a christmas decoration than anything. He waved excitedly at Left Brain.

"Heeey!!" he exclaimed. Left Brain didn't answer. The screen flashed another sentence.

'You walk in on your friend crying.'

The other man pressed 'Empathy'.

This went on for several minutes, with Left Brain peering uncomprehendingly at this other person answering these completely pointless questions with ease. Eventually, the screen flashed back to white, and more text appeared on-screen. 

_"This is Ethan's Right Brain: subjective, creative, sensory, aware of feelings, aware of people; He's emotional."_  
The kid--Right Brain--nodded. "Yes."

_"And an idiot."_

Left Brain's face twisted up in a smirk. How rude to call someone a name like that. If that were him, he'd have a few choice words, but Right Brain just waved a dismissive hand and said something about opinions.

Left Brain didn't think he'd have to be sharing this simulation.

He pointed a finger at Right Brain, turning his head at the ceiling. "This wasn't part of the deal," he said into the air.

"It was, I just didn't tell you," replied the robotic voice.

"You can't do that!"

"Stop whining, Ethan signed the contract, not you."

Left Brain huffed. Didn't he sign it with Left Brain's prowess? Aren't contracts made for analyzing?

As he looked over at Right Brain, who always seemed perched like a bird ready to take flight, he wasn't so sure anymore.

Left Brain caught his gaze. Right Brain waved excitedly as if they were yards apart, when in reality they were standing quite close to one another. He internally sighed, his posture slagging for a moment as he comprehended how much time he'd have to spend with this man because he knew that this wouldn't be the end of the tests.

As if picking up where he left off, the robotic voice started to speak. "Both of you have been evaluated and determined to be in working order on your own. These next tests, however, will determine how well you work together. Take your time, and stay on your side of the panel."

"Okay!" yelped Right Brain. He ran his fingers through his hair and Left Brain vaugley wondered how much dye it took to get his hair that painfully bright shade of green.

"Can we maybe do this separately?" asked Left Brain.

"Okay boys," said the voice, ignoring the question, "play nice."

***  
A hand was thrust at Left Brain. Begrudgingly, he took it, and immediately regretted it because Right Brain shook his hand with the power of a brand new car revving its engine. 

"Hiiii.... I'm Right Brain! I do all the things that you don't do! Like all the emotions and stuff, that's me!"

"You don't say," replied Left Brain flatly.

"I DO say!" Right Brain began to speak again, finger in the air, when he stopped, and his brows furrowed together with thought. "Hmmm..."

"What? What is it?" What could this dingaling possibly be thinking of?

"We should come up with names for each other," Right Brain proposed.

"Names? You mean the ones we already have?"

"Well think about it. We don't have our own names, just the ones we have. Like Ethan's name is Ethan, not Human."

"You're a master of the English language."

Right Brain boasted proudly. "Thank you."

Left Brain just shook his head. This was going to be a long series of tests. He sighed, giving into his wishes simply for the sake of getting this over with.

"Okay," said Left Brain, "how about... How about Jack?" 

"Because I like to jack off? Clever! I like it!"

....

Left Brain stared dumbfoundely at this red and green idiot. He must be a master at word association. Left Brain pressed his fingers to the bridge of his nose. "N-no... That's... That's not why...but okay. Whatever."

Right Brain--now Jack, he supposed--put a hand to his chin. "Hmmm....how...about... Mark for you?"

Of all names. "Mark?"

"Yeah! Like lists and check marks and puzzles and stuff. Check mark."

Left Brain was tempted to argue, but he didn't feel like wasting time. Mark it was. 

Mark pushed his glasses up his nose. This whole 'get along with your other half' thing was going to be harder than he thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leave a comment! Tell me what you thought! Did you like it, not like it? What would you change? What would you keep? Lemme know! Also, for chapter three, just think of the lyric, "here comes a female, here comes a female"

**Author's Note:**

> If you want more, i give you more. If not, ill probably write more anyway. Tell me what you thought of this chapter. I'd love a comment. I beg for comments. Love u. Bye.


End file.
